


Cold Heat or How to marry an Angel

by BlueBoxDetective



Series: A feeling Angel and an angelic Human [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bonding, Engaged Castiel/Dean Winchester, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Fluff and Smut, Hurt, M/M, Smut, Wedding Fluff, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-15
Updated: 2019-11-15
Packaged: 2021-01-31 07:17:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21442345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueBoxDetective/pseuds/BlueBoxDetective
Summary: Dean stares up at the ceiling, listening to the angel turning pages at his side. He has gotten so used to the sound of Cas reading next to him that most times, he falls asleep as soon as the angel turns the first pages, but today his mind is wandering. Not in a bad way, there are just some things to think about.“Do angels get married? To other angels, I mean?”____________This is part of a series, but in case you want to read it as a standalone, there is a short summary of what you need to know in the notes at the beginning.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester (mentioned)
Series: A feeling Angel and an angelic Human [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1465561
Comments: 3
Kudos: 54





	Cold Heat or How to marry an Angel

**Author's Note:**

> Recap of what you need to know in case you didn't read "An Angel with Feelings":  
After a demon calls Cas out for his unrequited feelings for Dean to hurt the angel, Dean finds the courage to tell Cas the demon was wrong. They fall more or less head over heels into a relationship, and when Dean consumes some bodily fluids from the angel, he begins to grow wings and get light versions of the powers of an angel. They go through traumatizing events like Cas being abducted and ripped from grace again (and getting it back), leading Cas to develop severe PTSD. When Dean learns that the sound and feeling of his heartbeat helps Cas, he gets them rings that allows them both to feel the other's heartbeat at all times. Like that, they are eloped after only nine months of being in a relationship, but they are both more than happy about it.

Dean stares up at the ceiling, listening to the angel turning pages at his side. He has gotten so used to the sound of Cas reading next to him that most times, he falls asleep as soon as the angel turns the first pages, but today his mind is wandering. Not in a bad way, there are just some things to think about.

“Do angels get married? To other angels, I mean?”

Dean hears the book softly being closed. Cas turns around, propping his head up on one arm as he searches Dean’s face for a moment.

“Rarely. No new angels have been created for centuries now, so most couples have found each other a very long time ago. And many angels don’t think much of sharing their eternal life with another angel.”

“Hm.” Dean twists his upper body and runs his fingers through Cas’ hair as he thinks. He likes the way it looks even more undone and ruffled when he does that. “So when they do, how do angels get married?”

Cas, apparently preparing for a longer conversation, moves to put his book down. When he faces Dean again, he slowly explains: “They don’t actually get ‘married’.” Dean can’t help but laugh at the air quotes the angel makes with one hand. “A relationship between two angels becomes recognized when they complete a ritual to bind both their graces together. It is said to be quite enjoyable.”

Dean tries not to let his smile falter, since he might not be able to see very well in the darkness of the room, but Cas is.

“Are there more rituals?”

Cas gifts him a soft smile that makes his heart jump even after all those years.

“A few. I think the most respected one is consuming a part of each other’s grace after forming the bond.”

Dean’s brows draw together: “Wasn’t that what angels do when they…” Dean stumbles over the word, “bond?”

The angel sounds amused: “Bonding angels inject some of their partner’s grace into their blood. I was told it feels like a swirling rush that pulls you to your partner, even though I can’t speak from experience. Consuming the grace means… eating it, if you can call it that. The grace tries to join the part that is already in the angel’s ‘blood’ and supposedly rolls through the whole body, trying to reach the blood stream until it is digested by the… internal organs. Or the equivalent of an angel’s true form, anyway.” Cas leans closer and Dean can see the small grin on his lips. “Apparently, the grace rolling through one’s body… it heightens the senses and feelings. Freshly bonded angels retreat for some time to complete that ritual. I guess it isn’t that far off from human honeymoon.”

Dean laughs. “You know about that?”

The angel nibs at Dean’s ear. “I might have done a bit of research when I got engaged to a human.”

Dean feels his stomach jump again and has to swallow. Before he can think for long, Cas queries:

“Might I ask where your sudden curiosity comes from?”

The hunter sighs so deeply that Cas pulls back and watches him carefully. Dean clears his throat.

“I just thought about the fact that I asked you to marry me like humans do. And it didn’t even occur to me to ask what the angel equivalent might be.”

A warm palm runs up his arm. Cas’ voice carries an amused undertone: “Are you contemplating to get married after three years of being engaged?”

Dean shrugs his shoulders. Technically, he only shrugs one, since his part of his bodyweight rests on the other. “Maybe. Okay, possibly a bit more than maybe. I’m just thinking about it.”

“Your answer couldn’t have been more relativized,” the angel deadpans and Dean shoves at his shoulder. Cas doesn’t move.

Again, Dean sighs. “I’m just wondering if there is some not-human ritual that you would like to do someday.”

Cas’ fingers intertwine with his. “I’m okay with the human way. Making a promise to each other in front of people close to you? It sounds binding.”

Dean smiles at Cas’ explanation of marriage. Then he turns more serious again as he realizes how Cas is evading the question.

“So you’re okay with human. But would you like to do something angelic?”

The angel is quiet for so long that Dean begins to wonder if he plans on not answering at all. In the dark room Cas’ eyes are black as the hunter searches for an explanation in them.

“Cas?” He probes eventually, squeezing the fingers in his hand. This time, Cas sighs. Dean might be imagining the yearning tone. When the angel opens his mouth, Dean is suddenly to insecure to wait for his answer.  
“It’s because we can’t, right? I don’t have any grace, so thinking about it is just making you wish for something impossible.” Dean rolls on his back to stare at the ceiling, avoiding Cas’ eyes. “I’m sorry for bringing it up. Should have thought about it.” The pit in his stomach is back at his attention, the one that has grown steadily over the past three years. Cas keeps telling him that he is happy (“fulfilled”, to put it in his words), but he has to be missing things from heaven. From his home, his family, even though it was a mostly shitty family. The hand that Dean had previously held in his own curls around his waist and pulls him effortlessly closer to Cas. Once he is pressed against the angel’s body, Cas’ lips ghost over his forehead.

“You are doubting yourself again.” It isn’t a question. He doesn’t have to ask anymore. Dean just shrugs his shoulders.

With a shimmer of hope Dean asks: “Would there be a way?”

Cas kisses his temple and his hand sneaks under Dean’s t-shirt that has ridden up at his waist. He has to admit, Cas’ touches make it quite hard for the pit to worry him.

“Maybe. Your soul is just as powerful as my grace, so there could be some magic to make it happen,” Cas contemplates in a whisper. Then he rolls most of his weight onto Dean and the hunter huffs. The angel’s second hand firmly leads Dean to look at him, their faces nearly touching. “But I want you to listen closely, Dean. I am perfectly content with marrying you the human way. You do not have to mutilate your soul for a ritual of a culture you’re not even a part of.”

Dean’s voice is only a whisper, his mind drunk on Cas’ scent and his lips so close to his. After all those years the guy is still making him go mad.

“I don’t want you to miss out on stuff just because I’m a powerless human.”

Cas rolls his eyes so hard Dean fears he might pull a muscle. To be fair, they had this discussion a couple of times already. But the angel never sounds less affectionate when he reassures Dean.

“I chose you. I’m not going to change my mind just to get some grace rush with an angel.”

“But there’s awesome angel sex,” Dean grumbles, and maybe he’s a little bit jealous.

He can feel the smug smile when Cas presses his lips to his forehead. “I don’t need angel sex when I have you.”

“Have you tried it?” Dean is suddenly wondering. Cas would have told him, right?

“No,” the angel confirms and Dean nods. Then he probes further.

“Then how do you know?”

Cas is now nosing at his neck and the hunter won’t admit that it’s giving him goose bumps. Cas probably knows anyway. His voice is unfairly husky when he mutters:

“Do you need me to show you, Dean?”

Dean fails to keep his breathing calm. He huffs defeat: “This conversation isn’t over. But I really want you to show me.”

Even in the dark Dean can see Cas’ victorious grin before the angel sinks into a hungry kiss.

///

“What kind of magic?”

Cas squints over his coffee at Dean, trying to figure out what Dean is referring to. To be fair, they had just finished talking about a possible witch hunt in Utah seconds before.

“Are you referring to the bond?”

Dean makes an affirmative noise into his mug.

“I don’t actually know, Dean. As you might have noticed, I am not a witch.”

“You never tried to find out?” The hunter is honestly surprised. It even makes him forget to be irritated by Cas’ use of sarcasm.

“No, I told you I am good with the human way.”

“Oh.” Dean can’t think of a more appropriate response.

Half a cup of coffee and a short chat with Sam later, who, to Dean’s delight, is driving to see Eileen again, the hunter suggests:

“We could ask Rowena.”

This time, Cas catches on faster. He scrutinizes Dean until the hunter squirms in his seat. His answer catches Dean off guard:

“Would _you_ like for us to ask her?”

His cheeks redden as he thinks about the question. He had mostly thought about the bond as something Cas might like, but the angel had maybe understood Dean better than he did himself. Turning his mug in his hands he clears his throat before he admits:

“Yeah, maybe I would like to.”

He cautiously looks up at Cas, wondering what the angel might think about Dean being so insistent about angel marriage. Bond. Whatever. But to his relief Cas’ eyes have lit up and a soft smile is tugging at his lips.

Something clicks in Dean. Of course, Cas doesn’t want some ritual just for his sake, just like Dean wouldn’t want to marry Cas if the angel didn’t really want to.

The angel gets up. He sounds cheerful when he announces:

“I’ll get my phone.”

///

The witch’s thick accent echoes in the bunker’s kitchen:

“Why would you ask me to remove a part of Dean’s soul? Last I checked you guys were pretty focused on _keeping _people’s souls.”

“It’s part of a ritual,” Dean explains while leaning over the table. For some unexplained reason he feels antsy.

“What kind of ritual? How to become emotionless?” The witch is teasing.

“Bonding,” Cas replies bluntly and Dean blushes. At least Rowena can’t see that though the phone.

“Oh, are the wedding bells ringing?” The witch sounds like she is grinning. “Did you guys elope?”

“We did. Three years ago,” Dean deadpans and Cas smiles lopsidedly.

After a moment of silence Rowena complains: “Nobody ever tells me anything.”

Dean chuckles. “We didn’t write notice cards, but we’re not exactly secretive. We even have rings.” Dean leaves out the part that the rings are mostly the reason they eloped in the first place, not an outcome of getting eloped.

“Well, I hope I at least get invited to the wedding.” The witch sounds like she pretends to be hurt.

“Of course,” Cas answers quickly and a cautious smile plays around Dean’s lips. This suddenly sounds like they are planning the actual wedding, but maybe he isn’t as nervous about it as he thought he would be. To be fair, he had three years to warm to the thought.

“Well then,” Rowena sings, “I will look into the lore. But rest assured, I am quite certain that I will find something. Witchcraft kind of specializes in doing things one shouldn’t do. What exactly do you need?”

Dean doesn’t look at Cas for confirmation when he explains: “Two separate chunks of my soul. Small ones.”

“Why two?” Rowena asks curiously. Cas beats him to the answer.

“One for injecting, one for consuming.”

“Isn’t consuming part of a soul said to be a rush of power and arousal? How does that tie into bond-” Dean chuckles as the witch catches her own thoughts. “Never mind, I don’t think I want an answer to that.”

///

Dean and Sam have barely put down the paper bags on the kitchen island when Cas appears on the other side of it. Sam jumps, to which Dean grins.

“Cas, I’m glad your wings are healed, but I really didn’t miss you jump scaring me for the past years.” The younger brother starts to collect fruits and vegetables out of his bags.

“Rowena called,” Cas announces without responding to Sam’s complaint. At the mention of the redhead’s name, Dean’s head shoots up and he eyes Cas. The angel doesn’t appear particularly excited, but not disappointed, either.

“And?” Dean ignores Sam’s confused expression.

“She found a way. But, I quote, ‘you wouldn’t wish that on your worst enemy’.”

“Why?” Dean passes Cas two bottles of milk and the angel puts them away while he elaborates.  
“Apparently, breaking off part of a soul is quite different from removing the soul as a whole.” Dean can’t help but huff at Cas’ words. The latter takes the cheese from his hands without batting an eye. “The pain is said to be excruciating. I asked Rowena if there would be a less painful spell, but she explained that the pain doesn’t connect to the magic and therefore can’t be avoided.”

Storing the bread away Dean contemplates: “I can stand a bit of pain. That hasn’t stopped me before, has it?”

Cas’ shoots him a disapproving look. “I won’t have you be tortured just for a ritual.”

Before Dean can respond, Sam frees himself from the stupor he had been frozen in for the time of the conversation.

“Time-out!” The apples he has been holding land in the paper bag again. “Why are we talking about breaking apart souls?! Dean’s, to be precise?”

Dean gives his younger brother his biggest grin. “We’re planning our wedding!” He can see the emotions fighting on Sam’s face. The worry wins over the delight.

“And what does that have to do with your soul?”

Cas is faster to answer. “It is part of the angelic equivalent of marriage.”

“Tearing a soul apart?” With his eyebrows close to his hairline Sam looks how Dean pictures a protective parent scolding their child.  
“Small pieces, Sam. I don’t plan on going soulless, don’t worry.” Dean shuts the door of the kitchen cabinet behind the last of their shopping. Sam doesn’t look convinced in the slightest.

“Sam,” Cas’ gravelly voice weighs in, “I wouldn’t let any lasting harm be done to Dean. The ritual calls for a small fraction of his soul and my grace. It will have no effect on his empathy, I assure you. But since it entails a high amount of pain, I would like to find an alternative or reconsider following through with the ritual.”

“Cas!” Dean starts, but his protest gets interrupted by his younger brother’s murmur:

“At least one of you seems to be sensible.”

The older brother postpones the discussion in favor of bantering with Sam about being responsible.

///

“That thing looks fucking terrifying.”

Dean picks up the massive object resembling a syringe. It is bigger than his hand and quite heavy, a glowing red crystal shining where the piston would usually sit. What looks like the needle is the diameter of a pencil.

“It took me ages to forge, especially to accommodate pulling two separate parts of your soul at once, so I hope it was worth the effort and you don’t get cold feet,” Rowena announces and then leans back into her chair with a satisfied smile. Cas throws her an angry look.

“Dean, you can always decide you don’t want to do it. Nobody depends on you going through with this.”

The hunter rolls his eyes and chooses not to answer either of the two. He watches the witch.

“Do you need to operate this thing, or can Cas and I do this in private?”

“You can absolutely do this on your own. I’d prefer it that way, to be honest. My days are over where I enjoy the screams of a Winchester.” Her grin is predatory, but neither Cas nor Dean mind her crude humor. “You just need to make sure you pull the extractor out slowly so that the hole can heal. Otherwise you risk your soul spilling out through the wound, and I doubt you want another soulless Winchester wandering around.”

“Will do.” Dean’s chair screeches over the floor as he gets up.

“Where’s Samuel? Haven’t seen him yet.” Rowena looks around the war room as if Sam might be hiding underneath the consoles.

“He’s with Eileen,” Dean explains, “If we’re not careful the two will be married before Cas and I.” He chuckles. “Can’t have that happen. On that note, let’s go.”

Cas looks reluctant as he gets up from his chair.

“Can I use your library, then?” Rowena asks with a look like she expects Dean to shut her down.

“Sure,” the hunter shrugs his shoulders, “knock yourself out. You earned the right to feel at home here, Rowena.”

The way the witches face lights up has Dean smile.

///

“I don’t want to do this.”

Dean smooths out the towel he has thrown over the bed before he gently takes the “extractor” from Cas to intertwine his fingers with the angel’s.

“Wanna tell me what’s on your mind?”

Cas holds his gaze and his voice is firm, but Dean can hear the underlying sadness.  
“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t. The thing will,” Dean nods to the syringe he has thrown down on the bed, “but not you.”

Cas frowns. “I’m quite certain it counts as me hurting you when I am the one to insert that needle into your throat.”

Dean swallows. He doesn’t like the sound of it, he has to admit, but he is stubborn enough to follow through with it now that he has set his mind on doing the rituals. “I’m okay with it. I’ve given you permission. That has to count.”

Cas doesn’t answer, but instead his eyes fall on the device.

“Cas,” Dean’s voice is soft, and the angel looks up at him. Dean runs his hand through Cas’ hair and pulls him to his chest. “We’ve talked this though. We decided that it’s worth the effort. I’m okay with doing this.” He kisses Cas on the forehead. “I _want_ to do this. Because I love you.”

Slowly he lets go of the angel and falls on his back, bouncing on the mattress. The extractor digs into his thigh before he picks it up and places it on the nightstand. Cas’ gaze has a shiver run down Dean’s spine.

“You want to do this?” Cas asks, his voice rough.

“Yeah.” Dean’s voice is barely a whisper.

“You won’t be able to tell me to stop. When I start the extraction, I can’t pull the needle out quickly.”

“I know. I trust you.” Dean has his mind set, and Cas won’t be able to change his mind. Chances are Cas knew that from the start and only needs confirmation that Dean’s certain, since the angel has repeatedly told Dean he wants this, too. He just dislikes the way it has to be done.

Cas’ brows knit together as he takes the syringe thing into his hands. He eyes it as if it did something to offend him personally. Dean watches him without saying anything, hoping that Cas will work though his thought.

When Cas looks at Dean, his muscles are tensed and his voice is strained.

“Can we start with me?”

Dean sits up on the bed.

“You wanna start with your grace?”

Cas nods once, his jaw clenched.

“Would it make you feel better about doing this?”

The angel sighs deeply, and Dean grabs the sleeve of his trench coat to pull him close. Cas sits down next to Dean.

“I think it would make me less nervous about hurting you if I already fulfilled my part of the deal.”

Dean shakes his head. “This isn’t a deal, Cas. It’s not quid pro quo, you don’t have to fulfil anything if you don’t want to. I know the grace thing is going to be hard on you.”

“Can I start?” Cas simply asks, and Dean nods as he gives up his space on the bed. The hunter fishes the angel blade and two tiny glass vials from a drawer in his dresser, where they had stored them for days now. When he turns around again, Cas is lying on the bed, his eyes pressed shut and his hands balled into fists. The sight punches Dean in the stomach.

“Cas…” his voice falters as he sits at the edge of the bed.

“Just get it done,” the angel forces out between clenched teeth. Dean shakes his head.

“No, Cas. Come here.”

The angel blinks his eyes open and reluctantly sits up to move closer to Dean’s outstretched arms. The hunter pulls him close and presses his lips to the angel’s, even though Cas doesn’t kiss him back. His lips wander, touching the tense wrinkles on the other man’s forehead until they ease, roaming over his temple and along his hairline to his jaw. Dean strokes up Cas’ back to his neck, his hand gently supporting as he kisses the angel’s throat with barley there touches. Cas tenses again, but not as bad as before. The area isn’t throwing him into violent flashbacks anymore, but never became one he particularly liked to be touched at. The prospect of getting parts of his grace pulled out again, even by Dean, has him anxious.

The hunter runs his lips along Cas’ neck until the angel loses some of his tension and eases into Dean’s touches. Dean counts it as a win when Cas begins rubbing his back and pulling him closer, then demanding with his other hand that Dean comes up for a real kiss.

When they break apart, out of breath, Cas’ eyes have lost the hint of panic. Dean studies him a moment longer before he whispers:

“Can we practice one more time?”

The angel’s smile is affectionate and warm when he answers:

“We don’t need to. You’ve got this, I know you do.”

“Please,” Dean asks, and he honestly can’t tell if he wants to reassure himself or Cas with it. The angel nods and takes the blade from Dean. Without giving Dean time to adjust Cas pulls the blade along his writs, and blood seeps from the considerably deep wound.

“Cas!” Dean calls out, even though he knows perfectly well the angel could heal himself if he wanted to, and only holds his powers back to give Dean the chance to practice his own. Without a second thought Dean clutches Cas’ wrist in his hands and forces the distant swirling feeling in his chest to run through his arms. A weak blue shimmer glows from the tips of his fingers, and after a couple of tense seconds the bloodstream ebbs. When Dean’s hands drop to the towel on the bed, the wound has disappeared. The hunter huffs while Cas smiles at him.

“See?”

“You started without me,” Dean complains while he plucks the cork from the two vials. Cas shrugs his shoulders.

“You caught up with no problem.”

With gently fingers the hunter takes the blade from Cas, and a hint of worry creeps back into Cas’ eyes. Dean rubs the angel’s neck with his free hand and bumps his forehead to Cas’.

“This will be over just as quick, okay?”

Dean thinks he can hear Cas swallow.

“Okay.”

Leaning back just slightly he brings the blade up to Cas’ throat. His stomach drops, but he keeps his hand steady.

“You ready?”

Cas sounds like a wounded cat when he croaks: “Yes.” Then he whimpers when Dean pulls the blade across his skin, a gaping wound forming.

“I’ve got you,” Dean murmurs as he drops the blade and picks up the first of the two vials, slowly letting go of Cas’ neck as he reaches for the cork. Cas’ eyes are forced close, and his hands clutch to Dean’s shirt. The small glass is filled in no time, and Dean fishes the second one from the bed.

“I’m almost done. You’re doing great.”

Cas is shaking when Dean corks the second vial, and the hunter lets it fall back down haphazardly. He bites his lip as he presses his fingertips to the wound on Cas’ neck, but he feels the grace inside him pouring out with almost no effort.

Dean sighs when the wound knits closed, and then he falls. Cas had either decided to lay down, or he had just lost the strength to stay upright, but Dean had relied on him to hold his balance. Like that he tumbles right down after the angel, landing on him with quite some force. Cas huffs and Dean rolls over quickly.  
“Sorry, I did-“

Cas interrupts him by pulling him back, both his arms wrapping around Dean’s back and urging him close. The angel buries his nose in Dean’s neck while the hunter struggles for air. Cas just pulls him closer, pressing the oxygen from his lungs.

“Cas?” Dean asks with a mixture of amusement and breathlessness, “Cas, air. Please?”

“You don’t need any,” the angel announces against the hunter’s neck.

“Kinda feels like I do.”

Dean gasps when Cas’ arms lift their death grip and air rushes back into his lungs. He laughs at Cas’ disappointed look and kisses his nose.

“You don’t have to let go. Just don’t suffocate me, okay?”

“You know I wouldn’t.” Cas protests but his eyes soften. Dean kisses him again and murmurs into his mouth:

“You did it. You did great, Cas. ‘m proud of you.”

The angel chooses not to answer.

They take their time to recover, exchanging chaste kisses and soft words. Dean is the one who sighs after a while.

“I really want to get this over with. You ready?”

To his relief, Cas nods, even though he looks displeased.

Dean rolls from the angel’s body and plops onto his back, watching Cas as he takes the two filled vials and studies them for a moment before he places them on the nightstand. Dean’s stomach plummets as the angel picks up the thing Rowena forged, and the smile drops from his lips.

But this time Cas’ lips are slightly turned upwards.

“Do you trust me?”

“With my life.”

Dean closes his eyes as Cas sits down next to him. The touch to his neck makes him jump, but it is just Cas’ fingers. The angel strokes his neck, over his cheek and though his hair, runs the tips of his fingers along Dean’s jaw, and the hunter slowly relaxes into the touch. The effect is nearly ruined when he feels cold metal in the dip of his throat, but only just. Cas’ thumb flies over his stubble, follows Dean’s lower lip until the hand rests on his neck.

“Can I?”

Dean feels his voice resonate in Cas’ hand and the syringe when he forces out a “Yes.”

Cas’ lips touch his forehead and the tip – well, the blunt opening – of the thing gets forced through his skin. It’s a good thing Cas didn’t go for a kiss on the lips, since the second the syringe breaks Dean’s skin the hunter feels it sucking at something in his chest, a suction strong enough to pull his heart through his throat, and what the suction tries to pull in forces his way through Dean’s body. And he screams.

The thumb stroking his neck does help, but not really. What he assumes to be his soul forces its way through his guts, and when the syringe is finally deep enough to find his core raging through his body, Dean expects the pain to lessen, but instead it ramps up once more. The metal of the extractor seems to burn his soul, sending pain searing through his body. His back arches, pressing up from the bed, and only when Cas murmurs “I have to keep going Dean, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” does he realize he is begging for the angel to stop.

Words leave his lips that he can’t hear, and time stops, trapping him in endless pain burning up his soul. His muscles cramp and the sweat on his skin can’t help cool the burning sensation, and somewhere along the way has he lost the feeling of Cas’ skin on his, an anchor that he could really use right about now.

When that pain stops and he feels cold angel powers knitting together the path of the needle, it seems too good to be true. His soul is still raging through his body, barely reacting to the fact that the suction has stopped, and only slowly does Dean hear Cas’ voice through the noise in his ears.

“It’s over, Dean, it’s over, I promise we’re done. I’ve got you, come here.”

Some part of his mind notices being picked up and cradled in Cas’ arms, but his body is still busy with gasping for air and cooling down.

Cas’ words slowly pull him back to reality, and Dean hides his sweat covered face in Cas’ trench coat.

Rain, fall, honey. The smell is familiar, he can work with that.

“You did it, Dean, it’s over.” He can work with Cas’ words. They stroke his soul and it calms down.

A hand runs through his damp hair. He can work with that.

It is hard to open his mouth and form words, but he manages. His voice is weak, but the sarcasm isn’t lost.

“I hope the bond will be fucking worth it.”

///

“I’m sweating through my suit. It won’t stop!”

“No, you’re not. Sit down and drink some water.” Jody pulls him from the side of the kitchen he had been pacing for the last fifteen minutes. She pushes him into the seat and places a glass of water in front of him.

“I’ll have to pee if I drink now.” Jody rolls her eyes.

“What, are you incapable of using a toilet? You’re old enough not to pee yourself. Drink!”

Dean reluctantly takes the glass. The second the fluid touches his lips, he notices how thirsty he is, and the glass is empty in three big gulps.

Jody shakes her head affectionately as Sam stomps though the doorway.

“Garth just arrived, so everyone’s here now. We’re good to go when you are.” After a quick look in Dean’s wide eyes he states: “You don’t look so good.”

“We’re having a bit of a wedding day panic,” Jody answers for him and pats Dean on the back. The older Winchester throws her a disapproving look.

“I’m good. Let’s go,” he announces and gets to his feet. His legs feel wobblier than he expected, but he remains standing. Jody and Sam both eye him as if they might need to catch him any second, so Dean strides out the kitchen before they can make another comment about him panicking.

Okay, maybe he is, but not everybody needs to know.

The war room is filled, at least more than usual.

Jody strolls over to Claire, who is leaning against the wall, observing the crowd from a distance. Alex is engrossed in a conversation with Garth, and Donna is standing close, nodding occasionally. Rowena is sitting at the table, reading a book but looking up once in a while, watching the different people. Eileen walks over from the staircase, signing to Sam so quick that Dean can barely manage to recognize the words “hunter” and “crowd”. His younger brother doesn’t have a problem understanding and quickly answering, though. Linda leans in the far corner, a flickering ghost Kevin by her side. She looks contend, even though she didn’t want to come at first. She feared for Kevin’s safety in a circle of hunters, but when Sam told her about the witch and the werewolf, she agreed to join them. And Kevin is chatting with Crowley as if he does that on a day to day basis.

Dean smiles at the small circle of friends. But the only person that would be able to calm his nerves is nowhere to be seen.

“You seem to be distressed.” The gravelly voice runs down his spine like honey. Teeth are showing when his smile spreading once he turns around, Cas standing mere inches behind him. The angel is dressed in a blue suit, his usual tie switched for a black one so that he doesn’t look like a blueberry.

“You look awesome,” comments Dean, even though it isn’t the first time he has seen Cas in the outfit.

“As do you,” answers Cas with his gaze slowly following the hunter’ body. Dean feels goose bumps spreading, but before he can make a lewd comment, he is interrupted by Sam.

“Are you guys ready?”

“Yes,” states Cas as Dean mumbles: “This is going to be awkward.”

“Great!” Sam claps his hands and raises his voice as he turns to the people in the room, “everybody, we need you to hold hands so Cas can take us all with him.”

///

Venice is beautiful in fall. They aren’t at the exact same spot Cas took him to that first date nearly four years ago, because it would be busy and crowded right now. They are in small park – this one even smaller than the one Dean and Cas visited on their first date and eloped in less than a year later. Cas had come here earlier and placed down a couple of chairs for the guests and brought a small table where two small vials rest. One is glowing pure white, the other one swirling with a soft blue shimmer. Their guests are sitting, watching them expectantly, all but Jody, who is standing between them to officiate their wedding. From the corner of his eye, Dean can see Eileen hand Sam a tissue, and Alex whispers something to Claire that makes her giggle.

But Dean’s eyes are glued to Cas’, burning bright blue like they always do, the warm, lopsided smile that Dean loves so much stuck on Cas’ face since the ceremony started, and his fingers closely intertwined with Dean’s.

He hears Jody say his name, and it pulls him back from his dreamy state. Crap, he hadn’t paid attention to anything she said. But since the only thing that is expected from him to be said are his vows, he guesses he knows what he’s supposed to say.

“Castiel,” Dean starts, using the angel’s full name for the first time in multiple years, and it doesn’t hurt, “Cas,” he still adds, his voice clear and without the panic he was fearing, “you know I’m not good with words, but I’ll try my best.”

The crowd laughs, which Dean choses to ignore.

“When I asked you to marry me, it was kind of an afterthought to getting you the ring. This time, I don’t want this to be an afterthought. I want you to know, as much as I suck at feelings, that I have made my decision. I want you to be with me, to be the one who laughs at my stupid jokes, listens to me when I ramble about my Baby and come with me on my hunts. And I want to be the one who laughs at your weird jokes, listens to you ramble about history and lore and come with you on your hunts. With this in mind,” Dean squeezes the hand on which Cas’ ring rests. They decided to keep them on, not needing another ring for this.

“I, Dean Winchester, take you, Castiel, to be my husband. I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad. I will love you and honor you all the days of my life, and every day that comes afterwards.”

Dean takes a deep breath, only now realizing he had been running out. The smile on Cas’ lips had widened, and he squeezes Dean’s hands back before he speaks.

“Dean,” the addressed suddenly feels very nervous again. They hadn’t practiced their vows, so he hasn’t heard what Cas is about to say. “I met you at your lowest point in life, trapped in hell and lost. Yet there was no way for me to miss the person that you were beneath all that pain, for your soul shone brightly like it wasn’t searing in hellfire. That meeting has changed me, and your soul became my sun. Being one’s sun is a common description for love in Enochian, but I never believed it to be literal. You taught me that I was wrong, and you keep teaching me wrong till this day. I will never get tired of learning from you, and I am most thankful that you allow me to do so.” Dean is certain he is shining more like a tomato than a sun right now, but his heart has swollen to twice its size. Though, he has to tell Cas to stop being thankful and accept that this is mutual.

“Therefore,” Cas continues and tilts his head, “I, Castiel, take you, Dean Winchester, to be my husband. I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad. I will love you and honor you all the days of my life, and every day that comes afterwards.”

The smile begins to hurt Dean’s cheek, but that won’t stop him. Jody clears her throat and sounds slightly nasal when she reads the last part of the vows.

“You have declared your consent before your friends and family. May we strengthen your consent and help you find your happiness. Dean and Castiel Winchester, you may now kiss.”

Dean lets go of one of Cas’ hands in favor of gently pulling him in at the back of his neck. Before their lips touch, the angel whispers the quietest “I love you,” and Dean repeats the three simplest and yet most powerful words.

Their guests clap and cheer when they kiss, even though it is probably the most chaste kiss they have ever shared. Dean and Cas keep staring at each other with the goofiest of smiles, and they only jump back when handfuls of rice are thrown at them.

When the laughter dies down and Jody has found her seat, Cas picks up one of the two syringes on the table. With high concentration he pulls up his grace from the vial before he steps into Dean’s personal space. Dean rolls up the sleeve of his suit as best as he can (which isn’t very far) and holds out his wrist for Cas to take. The angel looks him in the eye and gifts him another smile before he starts reciting an Enochian verse. He had told Dean that it was basically the words for “I am content to bind us together, making us inseparable for eternity” over and over again. To Dean, it sounds unfamiliar, yet hypnotizing.

The small needle breaks his skin, and whereas the extraction of his soul had been torture, this feels incredible from the first second. The grace pours from the syringe without Cas needing to push down the piston, and Dean feels like a wave of Cas’ powers is rushing through him. He barely keeps from moaning, but the gasp is quite audible. His eyes close out of their own accord, and he senses warmth and a feeling of belonging settle low in his chest. The rush is making his heart beat faster as well as his blood pump through his body, and then the grace pours into his wings.

They hadn’t pulled their wings into this plane of reality, mostly for their supernatural guests, but Dean’s wings materialize on their own now, arching from his back as he gasps once more. There are screams from the audience, some in panic, some in awe, but Dean is too entranced by his feelings to care.

He slowly blinks, and Cas stares at him like… Well, now that he’s said it, like Dean is his sun. Dean needs a couple more seconds before he feels capable to move, and then he picks up the second syringe and the part of his soul. It is easily pulled in, and when he looks at Cas, the angel is already holding out his wrist. Dean gently takes it in his hand, and quietly starts repeating the foreign words Cas had taught him. While he looks for the pen marking where he’s supposed to place the needle, he hopes he doesn’t butcher the words too bad.

As soon as the needle breaks the skin, it is as if Cas sucks the soul into his body. Where Dean gasped, Cas muffles a scream by covering his mouth. His head bends back, and a lightning strikes close enough for everyone to jump. The angel starts glowing from within (did Dean do that, too?), and with another lightning, his wings unfurl behind him. Again, their guests gasp, and even though this sight should be familiar, Dean does, too.

Well, the sight of two wings is familiar for him. Technically he knows that Cas’ true form has six wings, but he has never seen them before. Now, right before his eyes, three pairs of wings darken the sky as they spread out majestically, the second pair below the first further and the third even bigger. Dean is aware that his jaw dropped, but he can’t find the right muscles to close it.

When Cas straightens his head, Dean yelps, like he hasn’t done that enough times today. Cas’ head is glowing, and as Dean narrows his eyes, the shape of a halo becomes clearer. Dean might be alarmingly close to fainting from the sight of his now bonded husband.

Cas stares at him with big eyes, his pupils blown wide, and Dean thinks his own face probably looks just like Cas’. The only sensible thing for them to do is to step closer and press their lips together in a desperate, urgent motion.

The clapping this time is quieter, and nobody interrupts them with throwing rice. When they pull apart, they are both breathless, Cas has stopped glowing and only his usual pair of wings is visible for Dean.

They stare, again. Dean loves the sight of his husband. He can’t imagine ever growing tried of it.

The silence stretches until Donna announces: “Well, I’m jealous.”

Laughter defuses the tension in the air and quiet chatter starts to rise as Dean and Cas smile at each other.

///

They travel back to eat and drink and chat, and Dean does enjoy himself, he really does. But every time he spots Cas looking at him – which is the case, like, always – he wishes for them to finally be alone. Partially because he is looking forward to their second ritual, partially because he just wants to _talk_. In private, with his _husband_.

It is late in the night when Sam forces them in the Impala, declaring that he and Eileen will take care of the rest.

“Dean?” Cas’ voice is soft once he speaks, before Dean has started the Impala, “I know you booked the room we stayed in for our first intercourse. But I just had an idea I would like to suggest.”

“Anything,” Dean answers and drops his hands to his lap.

“Can I just show you?” The angel asks with a hopeful smile, and Dean nods.

///

Thick marble walls surround them in what that looks like a Throne Room. White steps lead up to a huge piece of furniture, seemingly carved out of a single piece of driftwood. The room is dark, sparse blue light shimmering though the windows. With a snip of his fingers Cas lights some torches on the walls. Dean looks out the window, but it is weirdly shadowy.

“Where are we?” He asks in awe as he steps up to the throne.

“Atlantis.”

“Excuse me?” Dean turns around, suddenly uninterested in the driftwood furniture.

“Atlantis,” Cas repeats, then tilts his head, “it is an ancient city that sunk-“

“Yeah, I know what _Atlantis_ is,” Dean interrupts him, “but, I mean, I thought it was just a story.”

Cas throws him a look that clearly says _you should know better_.

Dean shrugs his shoulders as he murmurs: “Atlantis.”

“We don’t have to stay,” Cas states, “but most creatures that fought in the war of Atlantis aren’t alive anymore, so the chance of us being disturbed is small.”

“I love it, Cas. ‘course I want to stay!” He jumps down the stairs and pulls Cas in his arms.

“I would stay anywhere with you right about now, but this is extra awesome.”

Cas smiles and whispers lowly: “Do you want to see the royal bedchambers?”

“Hell yeah I want to!”

///

Dean wants to stare at the room in awe, he really does. The bed is ginormous, old, but impressive, the furniture around the room – table and chairs, dressers, closets – look like fine craftsmanship, and he does have to look out the window sometime in the future. But right now, all he can see is Cas with the second set of vials in his hand. His heart jumps violently against his ribcage and a shiver runs down his spine. The angel places the glass containers on the table and turns to examine the bed as Dean closes the few feet between them and pushes Cas against the wall. The latter lets himself be pinned to the stone wall, a lopsided smile on his lips.

Dean dives for a kiss, one that doesn’t have to be chase and nice to look at, one that he can pour in the feelings that have been urging him through the day, and one that satisfies the constant pull at his soul he has been feeling ever since they completed the ritual. Cas is just as eager, his hands roaming over Dean’s back, pulling at the fabric and pressing Dean close.

“Cas,” Dean mumbles when he comes up for air, “Cas,” when the angel sucks a hickey into his neck, and “Cas!” when the angel rolls his hips against Dean’s groin. The hunter groans and pulls back, catching the angel’s hungry gaze with his.

“I…” he mumbles, then licks his lips. “_Please_.”

Cas nods and frees himself from Dean’s hands.

“Bed,” he instructs, his voice husky and strained, and Dean’s heart jumps at the thought that Cas is just as desperate as he is. Dean isn’t running over to the bed, he really isn’t, but when Cas _flies_ across the room with the vials in his hands, reaching the bed before Dean does, the hunter doesn’t feel as weak. With a big smile Dean climbs onto the old mattress, that isn’t nearly as soft as it looked from the distance, and moves to the center where Cas is sitting.

The angel hands him the vial with his grace and Dean is about to uncork it when Cas catches his wrist.

“Dean, I… Are you certain? We talked about how long this will take and how it will feel, but, are you sure?”

The hunter smiles and leans in, kissing Cas. When they part, he searches Cas’ eyes before he whispers: “I’m sure, Cas. Really am. I need you. Want you. My _husband_.” The angel gasps silently. “Are _you_ sure?” Dean murmurs.

“Absolutely. No doubt.” Cas’ voice sounds strained, emotional.

Dean raises the vial.

“May I?”

Cas nods, his pupils blown wide and licking his lips. Dean uncorks the vial and holds the shimmering grace to his lips. It doesn’t taste like anything in particular; it is more of a feeling. A cold sensation that has him break into sweat, one that surges through his body in seconds, like earlier that day, but stronger. This time there is no need for him to suppress any noises, and so he moans shamelessly. The swirling reaches his wings, and they arch from his back, his left crushing into a bedpost and breaking part of it, and Dean screams out the rush of power. He opens his eyes and catches the moment Cas’ wings spread behind his back, only one pair this time, and the second he lays eyes on Cas the searing power changes course, pulling violently at his chest. Dean moans, completely overwhelmed by the feeling. He is able to watch Cas’ pupils dilate once the latter opens his eyes, and behind them he can see the white shimmer of his own soul.

Cas reaches out for the other man, running his thumb over Dean’s lower lip. The touch is making Dean ache, sending bolts of lightning through his skin. Some of the swirling storm pools where Cas is touching, the cold heat emphasizing the touch from the angel. Dean reaches out, too, cupping Cas’ stubbly jaw with the palm of his hand, and the angel closes his eyes with a soft sound. Grace rushes to Dean’s hand, surging underneath the skin where he is touching Cas.

“This is overwhelming,” murmurs Cas in a strained voice, and Dean hums in agreement.

“I wonder how it feels when I kiss you,” the hunter whispers, and Cas’ eyes snap open. They focus on Dean’s lips, and the gaze makes Dean’s skin tingle. He slowly leans in, but doesn’t close the gap, wanting to give Cas enough time to adjust to everything feeling so… big. Much.

The angel brushes his lips to Dean’s, and they both gasp. They press them back together, and it’s electrical. Dean’s hand slips into Cas’ hair, holding him close, massaging his scalp, and Cas’ hands wander down to his hips, ridding up Dean’s shirt and touching the bare skin. Dean yelps at the sensation, distracted from the kiss until Cas’ tongue taps against his upper lip.

The hunter always loves kissing Cas, the feeling of his hot tongue in his mouth, searching and demanding, but now there is part of Cas surging inside him, looking for a way to rejoin with the grace in Dean’s blood and the grace in Cas’ body, and it’s attracted to every touch from the angel. The feeling goes straight to his groin, and he feels the need to have Cas touch him there, make the sensation pool where it feels so good, because if kissing is this awesome, how is sex going to feel?

Thankfully, Cas seems to have the same thoughts, as he pulls Dean closer so that the hunter is nearly sitting in his lap.

When they pull apart to breath, Cas searches his gaze and asks hoarsely: “Have I told you what the ritual is called?”

Dean nods, busy with running his hand through the soft feathers of Cas’ wings. The angel makes a high, barely audible sound. Whispering Dean pleads: “Tell me again.”

“It translates roughly to _the strength of the love_. It is said to be dependable on the strength of the feelings the partners have for each other, so if there is no love between two partners, they wouldn’t perceive any difference. The fact that I am overwhelmed by you simply touching me, it honors me.”

Dean contemplates the words for a moment. If that’s true – and coming from Cas, it most likely is – this is pretty awesome. By now he kinda assumed that Cas likes him, but this… It is just more confirmation on a long day of getting it confirmed over and over. Dean can’t get enough of it.

“Well,” Dean grins, “guess you can’t doubt that I love you, then.”

“I never doubt you,” Cas states sincerely.

“No,” Dean agrees and rests his hand on Cas’ yaw, “but you doubt yourself. Today you said you’re thankful for me allowing you. I don’t want you to be thankful. I’m not allowing you anything. We’re equals in this, Cas, and I love you. Do you hear me?”

Cas nods, his eyes wide. A few seconds pass with gentle touches before Cas whispers:

“I want to make love to you.”

Dean wants to cringe at Cas’ choice of words, but he can’t.

“Yeah,” he murmurs instead, “I’d like that.”

///

They undress quickly, desperate to feel the other’s touch again, and soon they kneel on the bed, naked, reaching for one another. Dean’s hand roam across Cas’ broad shoulders, pulling at the angel, urging him close; Cas’ hands are in Dean’s wings, holding him in the kiss that is all teeth and tongue.

Dean’s skin is burning with desire, and he tugs on Cas long enough that the angel climbs in his lap, both moaning as their skin touches in multiple places at once, stirring the swirling sensation from the ritual in different parts of their bodies.

“Cas,” Dean moans into the angel’s mouth, and the other man just makes an unintelligible noise back, “I’m so desperate for you.”

Cas nods, breaking their kiss, and moves closer to Dean. He presses their upper bodies together, skin on skin, and Dean feels like jumping away and moving in closer at the same time. Cas whines and hides his face in Dean’s neck, and the hunter urges him to look up, but Cas won’t move.

“You okay?” Dean asks breathlessly, trying to deal with the storm raging in his body, urging him closer and closer to the angel.

“It is so much,” Cas rasps into Dean’s skin, and his breath feels like fire, “and simultaneously not enough.”

“Yeah,” Dean agrees, finally successful when he tugs at Cas’ hair. The blue eyes stare at him in awe, and the sight rages on the grace inside him. Dean moans: “I need you to cheat, Cas, please. I need you to open me up, ‘cause I’m not gonna last if we do it the normal way.”

Cas nods frantically, but the wave of his powers hits Dean unexpectedly. As it travels through his body, it pulls in the agitated grace inside Dean’s body, and the sensation knocks Dean from his feet, just shy of having him come already. Thankfully, Cas catches him as he just collapses in on himself with a deep moan, his hands dropping from Cas’ body.

“Dean?!”, Cas panics, and Dean tries to get his muscles under enough control to answer: “’m good, oh ‘m so good, Cas. Jus’ don’t do it again, or I will come without you touching me once.”

The angel quietly huffs in relief, collecting the limp human to his chest. Dean works up the strength to kiss his angel and run his hands over Cas’ naked skin, pulling a gasp from him.

“Dean,” Cas repeats, this time with a strained voice, “please, I need you now.”

The hunter nods, trying to free himself from the angel’s grasp to lay down, but Cas manhandles him around until Dean’s back is against Cas’ chest, wings trapped between the two of them. The angel’s length presses hot against Dean’s lower back, and oh yes, he can get behind that idea.

“Okay?” Cas rasps into his ear, his voice running a violent shiver down his spine. Dean hurries to nod, reaching between himself and the angel. When his fingertips touch Cas’ erection, the angel tenses with a loud moan, pressing the air from Dean’s lungs. Dean himself can feel grace rush through his body, and it has him yearn to feel Cas already. Since he can sense Cas’ dick twitch and pulse under his fingers, he wills himself to wait, instead stroking the arm that is clamping around his chest. Cas relaxes, his breath irregularly rushing past Dean’s ear.

“Go slow,” the angel instructs, and Dean’s breath hitches. Cas gives him just enough room to align the angel’s dick, hands all over his skin.

When the hot, wet tip of Cas’ dick touches his hole, Dean gasps and fears to black out, but Cas’ hands steady him, even though they stopped on his chest, the angel apparently too preoccupied with the sensation.

Dean sinks down agonizingly slow, a burn present since they didn’t think about using lube, but his muscles are loose enough to make it work. Cas hides his face in Dean’s skin, and the hunter halts when he hears the angel whimper.

His own voice is at least an octave higher than normal when he asks: “Too much?”

Cas’ voice breaks when he answers: “Yes. But please don’t stop.”

“I… Are you sure?”

“_Please_,” Cas begs, and Dean couldn’t deny him even if he wasn’t so eager to continue himself.

“Okay,” he whispers, a hand searching for Cas’ head behind him, “but talk to me, ‘kay? We can stop if you need to.”

“_Dean_,” Cas moans, and the hunter sinks down further on Cas’ erection, causing them both to groan. “I love you, Dean. Love you.”

“Yes,” Dean replies intelligently, before he manages, “Love you, too.”

His thighs start to give out, and with a last effort he sinks down fully, Cas’ dick stretching his inner walls, most of the storming grace pooled in his ass, heightening the sensation of the pulsing and twitching of the erection inside him.

“Dean,” Cas whimpers, “I can’t… I need to lay down, please.”

The hunter nods, and before he can do anything himself, he feels Cas pull him sideways. But instead of falling, Cas guides them down slowly, probably supported by the wings Dean can hear flutter. They lay on their side for a while, breathing, mumbling to each other, fully overwhelmed.

When Cas has collected himself, he whispers: “Can I move?”

Dean nods again, not trusting his voice a lot, and the angel pulls out and presses back in, causing Dean to arch his back and muffle a moan. He barely catches Cas’ wrist before the angel can wrap his slender fingers around Dean’s dick, and the hunter murmurs: “I’m done for if you touch me. When you’re about to come, okay? Wanna come with you. Together, need you.”

Cas hums contently, settling on touching Dean’s upper body, his fingertips leaving burning paths of grace in their wake. Dean reaches for Cas’ leg and pulls it up his thigh, stroking the muscle and drawing meaningless patterns.

They whisper to each other as Cas speeds up, pressing deeper and losing his rhythm, the sensation close to too much for Dean. Cas’ moans become quieter and more desperate, turning into quiet whimpers. When Cas reaches for Dean’s dick and quickly starts jacking him off, Dean yells, his nerve endings set on fire. His hand curls into a fist in Cas’ hair, the fingernails on his other hand digging into Cas’ thigh, and as he the angel’s dick throbs in his ass, he nearly blacks out when he comes. Dean feels his throat burn as he screams, muscles clenching and his back arching, his wings fluttering where they are trapped between him, Cas and the mattress. The swirling inside him feels like it explodes out his body, a firework spreading through him.

He blinks when he comes to, not having lost consciousness but having been trapped in his own body’s sensations. Dean is out of breath, and he needs to consciously unclasp his muscles. Cas’ soft dick slips out of him when he turns, cum leaking from his hole, but he couldn’t care less. A lazy smile on his face he turns to Cas, who is as breathless as he is, his eyes big and tears dropping from them.

“Cas?” Dean worries, reaching out to cup the angel’s cheek, “What- Was I-“

“Stop,” the angel asks him, voice strained, his hand covering Dean’s “I’m good.”

Dean shakes his head. “You’re crying!”

“That is correct. It’s because I love you. I love you and I get to keep you. Because I am overwhelmed, but that isn’t bad.”

Dean furrows his brows, pulling Cas close enough that their noses are close to touching. “Shouldn’t that make you happy?”

More tears run down Cas’ face as he laughs: “But I am, Dean. I’ve never been better.”

The hunter shakes his head with a soft smile on his lips. “You’re weird, Cas.”

“And you still chose me,” the angel whispers, pulling Dean into a hug.

Relaxing into the touch, not nearly as agitating as before, he mumbles: “You bet I did.”

///

They spend eight days in Atlantis, and the sensation of the grace fades slowly, but doesn’t vanish fully. Dean can always feel some cold heat collect when Cas and he touch, and it feels right. It leaves behind a deep affection, a slow burning longing, a gently passion. They spend hours in bed, and they spend hours talking, and sometimes they spend hours just staring.

Dean could do this forever, and that’s the point, isn’t it? They _will_ do this forever.

Eventually, Sam calls for their help. He apologizes every three seconds and stresses that he wouldn’t have called them if it wasn’t six demons close to the president at once, but they assure him it is fine.

Before they leave, Dean asks Cas:

“Promise me we’ll come back here.”

Cas smiles his lopsided smile and quickly kisses Dean’s cheek.

“Whenever you want, Dean. I’m yours.”

“And, my bonded husband, I’m yours,” replies Dean before they travel back to their day to day lives.

///

It turns out there are a lot more than six demons and they have to abandon the case for now. They try to work out a new plan of attack for three days before something interrupts them.

Dean hears glass break in the war room and rushes through the door, Sam close behind him. Cas is standing in the doorway, a hand pressed to his head and two cups of coffee in pieces at his feet.

“Cas!” Dean calls out, rushing to the groaning angel, “Cas? Hey.”

He grabs Cas by the arm as the angel forces out some words.

“Something’s happened. Something’s… It’s angel radio, there’s so many voices.”

“What are they saying?” Sam sounds as concerned as Dean feels. The angel groans again.

“There’s been a massive surge in celestial energy.” Then he looks up, his eyes widening. Shock written on his face he states:

“A Nephilim has come into being.”

**Author's Note:**

> The Nephilim is Jack, not a baby of Cas and Dean, just to clarify. But I loved the idea of bringing the stories back together.
> 
> \-------------
> 
> Did you know that Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone is 76,944 words long, the Chamber of Secrets has 85,141 words and the Prisoner of Azkaban 107,253?  
That means that this series, with a little over 116,000 words, is longer than any of the first three Harry Potter books! I'm still speachless.
> 
> With this chapter, I will mark this series as completed. I do not plan on adding any more to the story, even though the thought of bringing Jack to the boys is appealing. I struggled a lot with this chapter, rewriting parts of it up to three times and feeling stuck for weeks. Episode 15x03 is really taking a toll on me :/
> 
> I want to thank each and every one of you who read this whole thing, left comments and kudos and shared this universe with me. I loved it very much :)


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